


I Want A Lover With An Easy Touch

by Vulcanodon



Series: Orpheus Had No Follow-Through [2]
Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti)
Genre: M/M, Name Calling (Some of It Sexy), PWP, Resolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-06
Updated: 2019-10-06
Packaged: 2020-11-26 05:11:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20924711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vulcanodon/pseuds/Vulcanodon
Summary: When it comes to doing the deed, Richie thinks they should take it slow, but Eddie thinks twenty-seven years is slow enough, thank you.“Richie.” Eddie says slowly, as if he’s talking to the most stupid person on the planet, which is y’know, fair. “Richie, I’m nearly forty. I’ve been married for a pretty huge chunk of that. Do you…Do you think I’m a virgin?”“I don’t think that.” Richie says quickly but he doesn’t really sound convincing, even to himself.





	I Want A Lover With An Easy Touch

**Author's Note:**

> This is a follow on from my way longer, more plotty fix-it fic ‘Eurydice’ (shameless plug) but I think it works as a stand alone if you’re just here for the sex. All you really need to know is that they survived Derry and are now en-route by car to the rest of their happy-ever-after lives. Title from ‘Slow Hand’ by the Pointer Sisters which is incidentally also the inspiration for this fic.

The thing is Richie feels like it’s important not to rush things. Physically that is. _Emotionally_, he’s all in. Couldn’t be any _in-er _if he was trying. It’s hard to keep things casual when you’ve been in love with someone for pretty much your whole life and when they’ve _literally died for you_. Twice. 

But when it comes to the sexy stuff then Richie is ready to go as slowly as he needs to. Slow like treacle. Slow like fucking _glacial shift_. When it comes to getting Eddie into bed, just go ahead and call Richie the molasses man. 

It’s not that he doesn’t want to go faster. Sometimes all Richie can think about is how fast he’d like to go, sometimes he has to have cold showers just _from thinking_ about how fast he wants to go. It’s not that they don’t have the opportunity either, sharing motel beds every night from Woodstock to Denver. Eddie is all healed up now, if a little achy but from way he moves when they’re making out, he’s definitely fit and able.

And they have made out, _a lot_ on this meandering and chaotic drive to L.A, kissing and touching as much as Richie can get away with in the daytime. At night they sleep wrapped around each other with Eddie drooling into Richie’s chest. So they are technically sleeping together but they aren’t so to speak, _sleeping together_. Not even a hand job, which is weird for Richie, who’s normally a _Wham Bam Thank You Sam _kinda guy. It’s rare for him to go on a second date, let alone sleep next to someone for nearly a week without getting off even once.

It’s just that…it’s just that Richie is, after all this time, just the tiniest bit,_ afraid_.

Eddie is clearly in love with him (_and that’s still insane to even think_) and he’s obviously into the stuff they _have _done but he’s also been married for around a decade and Richie really, _really_ doesn’t want to scare him off. If there’s even the slightest chance that Eddie might get skittish or uncomfortable and start re-thinking things, then Richie isn’t going to risk it. He’ll take cold showers for the rest of his life if necessary.

That hopefully _won’t_ be necessary though, because Richie has developed a twelve-point plan. Right now, they’re comfortably in stage two but Richie’s almost ready to move things (_carefully_) into stage three and if all goes well, they might be at mutual masturbation by Christmas. So, when about a week into their sort-of road trip, Eddie climbs into bed with him in a hotel just outside of Rochester, Richie kisses him goodnight and then happily turns off the light to go to sleep, with _no funny business_.

Usually Eddie would curl into his back (_and yes, okay, Richie can admit he likes being the small spoon_) but tonight Eddie just lies there on his back, looking up at the ceiling and after a while, clears his throat pointedly.

“Can I ask you something?” He says in a carefully controlled voice. “And don’t freak out.”

Richie, already freaking out, tries to keep it cool.

“What’s up Eddie-baby? You want a lullaby?”

“No.” Eddie says and then pauses, like he’s trying to think very hard about how he’s going to phrase whatever he says next. “Do you…Uh, do you not want to have sex with me?”

Richie makes a sort of gurgling noise, because _that’s literally an insane concept_, and turns over to look at him. Eddie is lying very still, staring intently up at the plasterwork.

“What?” Is all Richie can say, too busy trying to decide between_, Eddie that’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard in my life_ and _Of course I want to have sex with you, I never want to _stop_ having sex with you_.

“It’s just, I don’t get it.“ Eddie says in a rush, eyebrows twitching manically. “In the day when I’m trying to drive or eat lunch or fucking, check out a roadside attraction, you have your _hands all over me. _And then at night, just when I’m all riled up you just…go to sleep. Which…which is fine. I don’t want to make you do anything you aren’t comfortable with. If you want to just make out then I’ll do that, I love doing that, but is this something we should talk about? Because I have to say, I’m getting really mixed signals here.”

Eddie cuts off his rambling and takes a ragged breath, looking deflated. “Is it…I mean is this not something you want? With me?”

Richie can’t bear to see Eddie look like that, can’t bear to think that Richie’s made him this fucking_ anxious _so he rolls over and on top of him, so he can look him properly in the eye_._

“Eddie, no Eddie, I want that, I do, I want to do _everything_ with you, you have no idea.” He’s saying, almost desperately. “I’m so attracted to you I can’t _breathe sometimes_.”

Eddie glares up at him, hands twisting in the fabric of Richie’s T-shirt.

“So why aren’t we having sex right now then?” He grouses and he sounds so annoyed Richie wants to laugh but that would be fucking _suicidal _right now.

“I just.” Richie says, floundering. “Thought you might want to take it slow. I mean, I thought you might not have had too much...experience?”

He cringes and watches Eddie’s eyebrows do a series of fascinating contortions. There’s a really horrible silence when the word is left hanging in the space between them.

“Richie.” Eddie says slowly, as if he’s talking to the most stupid person on the planet, which is y’know _fair_.

“Richie, I’m nearly forty. I’ve been married for a pretty huge chunk of that. Do you…Do you think I’m a _virgin_?”

“I don’t think that.” Richie says quickly but he doesn’t really sound convincing, even to himself.

“I don’t know how much sex you’ve had, but I get mine okay?” Eddie snarls. “And not just with woman either. I mean, I went to college. I wasn’t married my whole life.” 

“Yeah?” Richie says in a strangled sort of voice because he doesn’t know whether it makes him jealous or if it’s hot, the thought of Eddie kissing other people, other people’s hands on Eddie’s skin, Eddie’s _dick_. “Who, I mean, what have you done?”

“Are you asking for my fucking… _gay sex credentials_?” Eddie splutters. “I don’t know, I made out with some guys in college. And then in my twenties, before I met Myra, I did some, hand stuff. A couple of blowjobs.”

“Uh huh.” Richie says, carefully neutral, because his mind is stuttering at the idea of Eddie on his knees in front of some guy, someone’s hand in his hair, his big brown eyes looking up at some faceless douchebag who probably didn’t even deserve it, who didn’t know how fucking _lucky_ he was.

“I stopped after I met Myra.” Eddie says, suddenly soft. “I thought maybe I could, y’know, move on from all that. If I got married.”

That’s kind of equally funny and incredibly depressing, the idea of Eddie trying to erase all the gayness with ten years of a nice, white-picket-fence heterosexual marriage.

  
“You never went cruising on the side?” Richie jokes, soothing his hands down Eddie’s arms. “I haven’t seen your chest pics on Grindr have I?”

“I never cheated on my wife.” Eddie says fiercely and then he looks away, as if that’s not entirely true. “I went to bars sometimes. Not… not to do anything. Just to, I don’t know. Test myself, I guess. To see if I still felt… Whatever.”

Richie thinks of Eddie sitting on a bar stool, clutching a sensible light beer, looking guilty and then Richie thinks that he used to live in New York for a while, he used to go to those bars. Maybe one day Richie could have walked in, already tipsy and looking for the flavour of the night, seen Eddie sitting there. He would have been Richie’s type too, short, with dark hair and big brown eyes _(and maybe Richie’s type had always just been guys who looked like Eddie, even when he didn’t remember him_). Maybe he would have let Richie buy him a drink. Richie could be a smooth talker when he needed to be. Maybe, just maybe he would have let Richie take him home and fuck him.

He shivers now, hard just from the thought, and Eddie notices, something shifting in his expression, pulling Richie down to kiss him, pushing up his hips.

“So, are we doing this?” Eddie asks him, when he pulls away, his voice rough.

“I just don’t want to go too fast.” Richie says even as his dick tells him he’s an _idiot_. “I have a twelve-point plan.”

“A what?” Eddie says blankly. His hand is creeping under the bottom of Richie’s t-shirt and it’s making it very hard to think.

“I had it all planned out.” Richie tells him, and _why is he telling him? _“Step one was hand-holding. Step two was ah, kissing.”

Eddie laughs but he looks weirdly charmed. “What was step three?”

“I was uh, I was going to take your shirt off.” Richie says, his voice actually breaking on the last words, like he’s fucking fourteen all over again.

“Like this?” Eddie says and then, like an absolute fucking madman, he’s wiggling out of his shirt and tossing it over the side of the bed. “You’ve seen my chest before, are you forgetting, you fucking _showered_ me at one point?”

“I wasn’t exactly feeling very sexy at the time.” Richie says but this right here, this is sexy, Eddie’s warm skin all laid out beneath him and how did Richie never notice he has abs and _how does he have abs_? Maybe Richie should have been on a fucking macrobiotic diet too because there’s no way his forty-year-old body can match up to _this._

But Eddie is saying, _your turn Trashmouth _and watching Richie like he’s _hungry_. When Richie takes off his shirt his hands are shaking, and he feels too old, too hairy, too fucking pale. Then Eddie pulls him down so their chests are flush, till he can feel Eddie’s heartbeat in a way that’s still so reassuring, even now.

“You can touch me you know.” Eddie tells him, oddly gentle, as if _Richie’s_ the potential virgin now. “I want you to.”

So Richie does, careful over the bruises still on Eddie’s ribs, tracing his arms, his stomach, the raised ridges of his scars. Eddie shudders under him, swearing into Richie’s ear, his mouth moving against his stubble. He moves his hands down Richie’s back until his fingertips are just resting under the waistband of his sweatpants and asks, “Is this step four? Is this okay?”.

“Yeah. Yeah, it’s more than okay, it’s good, it’s so good Eddie, you’re so good.” Richie says and he’s lightheaded from how little blood is actually making it to his brain.

Eddie makes this happy little sound of pleasure and then somehow Richie’s pants are gone and Eddie is pushing him back so he can shimmy out of his boxers.

“Wait, wait, wait.” Richie says and then, before Eddie can look worried, “Let me put the light on, I want to…is it okay? I want to see you.”

Eddie laughs low in his chest, sounding a little nervous, but he still reaches over to switch on the bedside light. Richie fumbles at his bedside cabinet, scrabbling for his glasses and it probably looks very lame and non-sexy but he’s not gonna be blind for this. When he turns to look at Eddie he almost dies right there and then, not just because of the whole _naked, so much skin, horny_ thing but because suddenly this feels real, like this is really happening. Eddie is still wearing his stupid ankle socks but to Richie he looks better than any greased up, muscle bound pin up he’s ever seen, like he’s walked right out of Richie’s dirtiest, most depraved wet dreams.

“I’m gonna be honest, whatever your face is doing is making me super anxious.” Eddie tells him, his hands still on the bedsheet but looking like he’s twitching to cover up and fold in on himself.

That would be a disaster, that would be a tragedy on the scale of the _Titanic_ right now, so Richie crawls forward to kiss him before either of them can fuck this up. The feeling of Eddie, warm and naked and moving underneath him makes it hard to even think and Richie can’t touch him enough, he wishes he had more hands, for Eddie’s hair and face and his thighs, and _Jesus, his thighs_. Eddie is biting at his lower lip and thrusting up to meet him and maybe Richie could come just from this, just from rubbing his boner against Eddie’s hip.

Then Eddie is pulling away and panting, “How do you want it? Where do you want me? Under you?”

Richie’s brain is barely functioning but suddenly there’s an awful image in his head of Eddie underneath him, just like this, bubbles coming up from under the water and he’s shaking the image away saying, “No, no, On top. I want you on top of me.”

Eddie grins and rolls out from under him, resettling so he’s kneeling over Richie, one hand on his chest and the other on his dick. “Like this? You want me like this?”

“How the fuck are you better at this than me?” Richie practically wails, looking up at him. “I’ve had_ so much sex_, dude.”

“Wow, brag much? Eddie says, rolling his eyes. “I might not have done this before, but I’ve thought about it.”

He reaches down to take Richie’s dick in his hand and now Richie really might pass out.

“I’ve thought about it a _lot.” _Eddie says, breathing more heavily now. “Doing this. Doing this _with you_.”

“I love you so much.” Richie says and it’s not dirty talk, but he can’t stop the words spilling out. “You’re so hot, Eddie, this is so hot. I think I’m gonna die.”

“Not till I’m done with you.” Eddie tells him and then he’s rolling his hand up and down, at an awkward angle but working it like a fucking _trooper_. “First I want you to tell me about step five.”

“Step five.” Richie gasps and pushes up with his hips, wanting more but Eddie is in charge here and his hand is so fucking slow and nice, sending shivers up Richie’s legs, his chest. “Step five is long gone dude we’re at like six or seven here.”

Eddie wrinkles up his nose. “Please don’t call me dude when I’m jerking you off.”

“I’ll call you anything you want Eddie-baby, just don’t stop.” He says and Eddie looks like he’s turned on despite himself, hair falling in his face and mouth hanging open, pink and wet.

“You like that?” Richie asks him. “You like being called that?”

“Y-yeah.” Eddie gasps, looking like it hurts to admit. His hands are off Richie now and he’s touching himself, so Richie grabs his hips and rolls upward, moaning.

“You look so hot right now baby, I love watching this.” Richie babbles, feeling the tightness rising in his gut. “I love watching you come apart like this, for me. God, I want to fuck you so badly.”

The last part comes out by accident and it’s too much too soon, but Eddie is moaning and leaning down to lick into his mouth like it’s the hottest thing he’s ever heard and then he’s shuddering apart in Richie’s arms. Richie flips them over and then he’s grinding out his own orgasm into Eddie’s stomach, all over him, messing him up and muttering things like s_o lovely_, _so hot_, _I love you so much_ into Eddie’s sweaty neck.

He gets maybe three seconds of afterglow before Eddie starts bitching about having cum all over him. When he goes to the bathroom, he brings back a damp cloth for Richie and then curls into his side, with only one or two snarky comments about the general sweatiness. Richie can barely move, just lying there and trying to breathe properly, like _he’s _the one with the fucking asthma.

“You look like you’ve been hit by a train.” Eddie tells him, not without affection.

“I have.” Richie breaths out. “A sex train.”

He laughs at his own bad joke and feels Eddie smirks into his side.

“So at what stage of your plan did we get to actually fucking?”

Despite himself Richie feels his dick twitch vaguely just from Eddie saying that and _God, he’s pathetic._

  
“That’s like eleven, I think. I was gonna go for that on our anniversary.” He says and Eddie looks up with a startled expression.

“A year? You were gonna wait a year to have sex with me?” He snaps, cheeks flushed from sex and Richie can’t help but reach up to ruffle his hair.

“You would have loved it. I was gonna get roses. Champagne. Maybe silk sheets.” Richie tells him and he’s not even joking, that had been a big part of step eleven.

“You know you don’t have to protect me so much.” Eddie says, watching him carefully. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“I know.” Richie says but he doesn’t think it’ll ever go away, the need to check that Eddie’s okay, that he’s real and there and breathing.

In their last hotel he had used the bathroom first and found a spider in the bathtub. It was tiny and definitely terrestrial, and Richie had never been skittish about them before, but for a moment he had considered calling down to reception and asking to transfer rooms. Then he had thought about Eddie walking in and seeing it, so he had trapped it under a cup and shoved it out the window himself, swearing under his breath the whole time. 

“I’m serious.” Eddie says, looking up at him, his eyes dark and intent. “I don’t want you to treat me like I’m fragile, okay? I’ll tell you what I can handle.”

Richie nods but then says, “Okay, how about this; you protect me, and I’ll protect you. Is that fair?”

Eddie thinks about this for a moment and then nods. “I can do that. But please, _please_ don’t try and protect me from sex again, alright?”

Richie laughs and then kisses him, first deeply on the lips and then, brushing the hair out of the way, his forehead. “You got yourself a deal Eddie Spaghetti.”

“Don’t call me that when we’re naked, please.” Eddie groans but lets Richie pull him in tight.

A little later when Richie’s about to go to pass out Eddie prods him in the shoulder and asks, “If step eleven was going all the way, what’s twelve?”

“Roleplay. I’m still set on sexy nurse.” Richie says sleepily but he’s lying. Step twelve is Eddie moving into his apartment, getting a dog and growing old with him and being here, like this, forever and ever; for the rest of their lives.

“Ugh.” Eddie says. “Maybe I do want to take it slow after all.”

“We can do that.” Richie says happily. “We can do anything you want Eds. Just say the word and I’m your man.”

It’s the truth, after all.


End file.
